I guess this is what it feels like to begin to...

I guess this is what it feels like to begin to move on. Yesterday, I was driving down a busy Los Angeles boulevard with a car full of friends, and it suddenly hit me that in a few weeks, it will be a year since you laid with me at our spot on top of that electrical unit roof on the beach, under the stars, and broke my heart, broke us apart on the night before Thanksgiving. It’s been nearly a year, and yet I am only just now beginning to face my demons and let you go. I always thought then when one ‘moved on’ it meant that one day he/she woke up and suddenly didn’t have the same feelings anymore, that if by some miracle, all of the yearning cleared and his/her mind was fresh and full of room for new adventures. I see now that I was wrong, that moving on is far less miraculous and far less magical than that fairy tale. I miss you and love you just the same, but I’m learning how to gradually not let my missing and loving interfere with the rest of my life. I can go a day without speaking to you without panicking. I can see your name on Facebook without immediately clicking it to say hello. I can leave my phone for hours and come back not expecting a text. A call from you is now a pleasant surprise rather than a necessity. I guess I am learning how to be alone again.

I can’t say that looking back, I would have changed anything and tried to break away from you earlier on, because that would be nothing short of a lie. No matter how many people questioned my decisions to return to you, to spend a summer in your deceitful arms, I know—and always did know—that I was doing exactly what needed to be done.

submitted by laddertospace.